i'm blinking off and on and off again

Outside the motel window, he can hear the traffic rushing down the freeway. it is steady and persistent, like a wind through the trees. He steps out onto the small motel balcony. he can feel the dust beneath his feet. he lefts his left foot; blackened. he sets it back down on the ground. He is drinking tap water from a plastic cup given to him by the motel. There are three others, still unused sitting, on the counter of the bathroom sink. The water is warm. he takes one last drink and tosses the water over the balcony, holds onto the cup. The water splashes over a patch of tall grass directly below. A stream or drainage canal runs along side the motel. It is overgrown with grass, its banks obscured. The man is unsure if there is even water flowing. He cannot hear the familiar rush of running water. It is silent in the early morning hours, the sun not yet peering over the walls of the distant freeway.

On the other side of the stream is a parking lot; asphalt worn down to mere gravel. A large truck crunches over the aggregate. The man finds the noise comforting; assuring. He tries to mimic the noise with his teeth but cannot. The truck parks at the end of the lot closest to the stream. The boundary between parking lot and stream is unclear. The grass has filled in the gaps. The truck's driver may have tumbled into the ravine had he driven another foot forward. The steepness of the stream's banks is masked by the grass, tall and still in the morning air with not even a cricket sounding.

A man gets out of the truck and walks toward a diner at the far end of the lot. It is a 24 hour diner, as indicated by their neon sign, red and half aglow. The man standing on the motel balcony tries to follow the other man's movement through the diner; find his booth. The diner's windows, though large, do not allow the man to watch as he desires. The man looks into the empty cup of water and shakes it to gather any remaining drops together. He wishes he hadn't tossed the water out. He thinks about getting more, but he doesn't want to track in dirt. It's not right, he thinks.


(Notes: wants to eat at diner. order cooked cinnamon apples. something allures him. tie in stream creek- find significance. girlfriend is in bathroom. in tub. hears water splash occasionally. thinks about her. the weight of her head on his shoulders/ chest. the trust it takes to fall asleep on someone. unspoken connection. cannot fall asleep on her. are they more apart than together? is she rushing things by following asleep on him? kids play in stream. drains tub, water can be heard outside. sun comes up. wind like sound from traffic. what is he wearing? figure out diner.

the man is wearing plaid boxers and a v-neck undershirt. he can feel the cold air against the small patch of skin the shirt leaves exposed.

girlfriend is in the bathrom/tub. he hears her yell, godamnit. walks back into room. smells something burnt. asks, while still on balcony, have you been...walks into bathroom. have i been what? nothing, he replies. i was going to ask if you were smoking. he looks down to see a row of extinguished matches sitting on the edge of the tub along with a half filled cup of orange juice. i spilled juice in the tub. that's why i yelled. yes, i can see. you're floating in pulp. that's why i always get no pulp. (perhaps g/f's name is norma.)

she is sitting the the tub, legs spread as far as the tub will allow, knees, like peaks, cresting just out of the water. The water is murky with soap and dead skin, fallen off and floating. the man sits on the toilet next to the bathtub. sticks his right hand in, swirls the water, finds the sounding rippling water comforting. He splashes the water on his girlfriend's chest. they laugh.

a bucket of ice, the one left in the room by the motel, is sitting atop the toilet tank. a small bottle of orange juice is inside. it floats now that most of the ice has melted to water. a man picks out a piece of ice, rubs it along his g/f's thigh. stop it, she says. don't be a jerk. sorry, he says. lets the ice cube go. it plunks into the tub. she sighs, swishes the water with her feet, pushing the ice cube away from her. it swirls around the tub. she leans her head sideways toward the man, still sitting on the toilet. she puts her hand on the tub's ledge, then his thigh. she rubs his knee. it tickles the man. he squirms. again, they both laugh.

get in, she says.
i can't. my feet are dirty.
that's the point. you don't get into a tub if you're clean.
look at my feet. he lifts a foot onto his knee. shows the sole to his g/f.
you're right, that's gross.
she rests her hand on his, pulls it toward her. leans her head on it. feels wet hair. odd sensation (DESCRIBE).
should i get out?
it's up to you.
she looks at him.
let me see your hand, he says
her flesh is wrinkled from the water. he traces along the ridges with his fingers. wait a couple more hours. you're not fully pickled.
she smiles. he edges away from her, bored.
where are you going? she aks
i don't know. bed, i guess.
he leaves her wading in the tub, and listens to her splashing as he goes back to the balcony. he look down to the tall grass and a small patch of bushes. he hears a light rustling of branches. a boy if playing outside with a stick, making his way through the grass. it goes up half his chest. The boy picks up a few rocks and throws them in the direction of the parking lot and a tall light pole at its perimeter. Some of the rocks hit the pole with a loud clang. it is a sound of victory for the boy. he jumps every time he makes a hit....

hears major splashes of water from bathroom. girlfriend is getting out. (edna?) he heads inside, rubs his feet vigorously on carpet. would rater have dirt on floor than on sheets. climbs into bed, covered by only a sheet. he is on the far ide, farthest from bathroom. turns on small, bedside wall sconce. She comes out of the bathroom naked, a towel wrapped round her hair. she is still wet from he bath. dry me off, will ya? she says. She walks toward the bed carrying another towel. she crawls onto the bed and sits astride him. he can feel her weight on his stomach; the pressure he body inflicts ad the shallow breaths his lungs are now forced to take. She gives him the extra towel and begins to dry her off. he can feel the water's dampness soak through the sheets. he is becoming cold. he tries her off faster now, rubbing with speed and effort. once her front is dry she turns around, sits facing away. she indicates she wants her hair dried. he pulls the towel off her hair. she slumps, lowering her head closer to him. her hair is clumped in thick strands like rope. it is dark; black. He squeezes the strands as if wringing a mop. she mews. ow, not so hard. he lightens up. scrunches the hair at its roots, rubs the strands from side to side. he is sprayed, on occasion, by loose droplets. it feels like a mist, like a gentle rain. his fingers grow tired, but he enjoys the spray. She turns back around, facing him now. and lies down on top of him. her body subsides, hangs off to the right of his. her naked, right thigh is all the remains of top of him. She adjusts herself, nestles her head into his shoulder. Her hair is still wet. he can feel it on his chest; on the patch of skin exposed by the v-neck undershirt. he is cold, uncomfortable. he can not move. he looks to his right, to the balcony. he hears the last of the bathwater drain in a loud slurp. he imagines the small whirlpool forming at the bottom of the tub. there is a gurgling noise outside the room. it is the sound of rushing water. drained bathwater, now in the stream. The noise is carried inside by the winds from the freeway, the sound of cars whirring and cutting against the air; a tear and ripple through the silence. His girlfriend, now asleep on top of him is now asleep. her breathing is deep. she exhales at regular intervals. he, then, exhales; his labored breathe is out of sync with hers. the pale blue light of morning gives way to the piercing yellow of the afternoon. he squints at the coming sunlight and exhales yet again, unsure of when his next breath will come.) (fix time shifts/time table) tie in diner or cut it out. tie in stream
somehow).

make story trilogy: boy at stream, man at hotel overlooking stream, man in truck at diner. (man told to follow the river, it runs parallel to the freeway, get off at certain exit.) truck scares the boy. he runs away (use boy from "there is much to be made"). story takes place in small town or freeway exit, not even town, just a rest stop. plains, dry. flat space. long views into nothing.